Anxiety Society
Art by Alexis Barrett
Create beauty. Not anxiety that can be slid by. Laughed at, liked and popularized. But who cares? Pain pays.
My friend’s girl committed… last week. We don’t say the word. It makes us shiver. We discovered her body. It’s not the kind of surprise we celebrate. And we couldn’t tell if she was expecting it to end that way.
My friend was sad for a minute. Too long for those who didn’t have to wait, and sweat out nightmares, day ones too, at work and at school, where whispers, eyes with pointy lashes and fingers blamed and at home where parent’s, out of frustration for having to grow up fast on their own, want you to get back to being yourself, and push you away from their help.
Uhhh,,,
That was a breath full? Or, is a mouthful. Whatever it was, he told me, he had enough, and was afraid because.” They don’t come easy anymore”. “My body feels like it wants to get rid of something.”
Diary Entry #1…
Wait. What? Was that thought telling me?
Nah, nah, hold up.
Is this that thing the call depress…
Nobody wants to hear it.
Everybody wants to see the show.
Nah, nah, I’m too tuff. To raw. I remember when she let me go raw. She was sick a while after. But she said she liked it.
Did she really? Was she? She love me? She wouldn’t lie to me?
End of Entry…
Rumors…
Nah. No way she was pregnant. But they saying girls committing suicide is the new abortion.
Damn. I thought it was cool for men to be savages. To run women n’shiiiiiiit… Let boys tell it, women really like it.
But which ones? Who you listening to? The truth about a lie is everybody gets screwed. Twisted. And people would rather die than miss the opportunity to hurt you.
Diary Entry #2…
Damn. I miss her. I miss us. The old me.
Who else will.
Let’s see.
Die…
Just because you ignore your pain, don’t think your kids are alright. If their talking, eating, showering, sleeping less, or more, they might be screaming for help. Be their diary. It’s the hardest and most joyful part of being a parent.
